


Be mine (you are not mine)

by swallowthewhale



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, KillerVibe Valentine, Non-Explicit Sex, Secret Identity, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22726630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swallowthewhale/pseuds/swallowthewhale
Summary: Caitlin’s boss has been trying to set Caitlin up with her grandson since Caitlin and her ex broke up. Now Caitlin’s forced to meet him, since he’s going to the company Valentine’s day party, but she’s much more interested in the mystery guy she hooked up with a couple months ago and still sometimes sexts with when she’s drunk and lonely.Killervibe Valentine 2020
Relationships: Cisco Ramon/Caitlin Snow
Comments: 12
Kudos: 18
Collections: Killervibedaily Events





	Be mine (you are not mine)

“Caitlin!”

Caitlin turns at the sound of her boss’ voice, smoothing down her dress, and trying to breath steadily over the hammering of her heart. Her boss has been hyping up her grandson, who’s apparently a computer genius working at Palmer tech, for months and always slyly insinuating that he and Caitlin would be great together. Caitlin had tried to gently steer her boss away from setting her up with him - Caitlin and blind dates don’t go well together - but Mrs. Díaz had firmly informed Caitlin that her grandson would be at the company Valentine’s Day party this weekend, and Caitlin would finally meet him.

Caitlin had contemplated faking sickness to get out of it, but she’d already promised Iris, who needed Caitlin’s plus-one and moral support to maybe, actually, _finally_ , get together with Barry Allen at the party, that she would be there. So here she is, plastering a hopefully friendly smile on her face as she turns to her boss.

Mrs. Díaz has the same bright, energetic eyes as her grandson, and the same thousand watt smile. 

Caitlin’s stomach plummets.

“Caitlin, mija, this is my grandson, Francisco Ramon.”

“Cisco, please,” he corrects, holding out his hand.

She shakes his hand while Mrs. Díaz chatters on in the background about Cisco’s work at Palmer Tech. Caitlin doesn’t hear any of it.

* * *

_Three Months Ago_

“Caitlin,” Iris says when she answers the phone.

“Hi?” Caitlin asks, cautious of the excitement in Iris’ voice. It’s typical of a conversation before many of Iris’ less-than-sensible decisions, like chasing a dangerous lead for a story or talking Caitlin into doing five shots of vodka in half an hour.

“Girls night!” Iris sings. “You, me, and Linda. At that new nightclub, Bliss.”

“Iris…” Caitlin protests. “Last time we had a girl’s night, I puked in an Uber.”

She can practically hear Iris roll her eyes through the phone. “That was then, this is now. C’mon, I want to celebrate my article on the front page!”

Caitlin glances at her copy of the Central City Chronicle on her counter, Iris’ name proudly displayed in the by-line. “Okay, but no shots.”

“Deal,” Iris squeals. “Pick you up at eight!”

Iris hangs up before Caitlin can respond and she looks at her phone with a sigh. There goes her night of crappy romance movies and ice cream. Probably for the best, anyway. She feels just as shitty after a night of self-pity as she does of drinking. At least she’ll have fun out with Iris and Linda.

Iris arrives exactly at eight, but they’re delayed half an hour when Iris marches Caitlin back into her closet and forces her to change out of the modest jeans and blouse she was wearing and into Caitlin’s one and only little black dress and heels.

“It’s a nightclub, not book club,” Linda says when Caitlin protests.

Maybe Caitlin will thank them for it later, but she’ll never, ever admit it.

The club is packed when they finally get there. They elbow their way to the bar, where Iris orders a round of shots, and Caitlin says “fuck it” and drinks one despite her own determination _not_ to get completely wasted tonight. 

Several shots, lots of dancing, and group bathroom trip later, Caitlin has lost track of Iris and Linda. She doesn’t mind terribly. They won’t leave without her and she’ll find them eventually. Much more interesting at the moment is the way the heavy bass syncs up with the alcohol pounding through her and the gorgeous man watching her across the dance floor.

She maintains eye contact until her line of sight is blocked by the mass of dancers between them. A hand slides over her waist, and Caitlin jerks around to find the man behind her. He leans in to put his mouth by her ear. “Wanna dance?”

Caitlin responds by draping her arms over his neck.

It’s not long before their dancing is just grinding, Caitlin’s skirt riding up dangerously when he slides a thigh between her legs. She pulls her head back from where it had been resting on his shoulder to stare into molten eyes that are just familiar enough to say yes when he asks, “Want to get out of here?”

Caitlin has just enough brain cells left to text Iris and Linda and give the taxi driver her address. The man stays on his side of the car during the ride, his hand tracing higher and higher up her thigh until Caitlin squirms, pressing her thighs together.

He pays the driver while Caitlin digs her keys out of her clutch, and he presses her up against the door as soon as it's open and shut again.

He kisses her so tenderly that her legs turn to jelly, but when he unzips her dress and slips it off her shoulders to find just bare skin, he groans into her mouth and kisses her more frantically.

They make it to the couch, where he pulls her into his lap with her dress rucked up around her hips and tugged down past her breasts, and then into her bed, where they lose the rest of their clothes and he makes her toes curl with his mouth and then his cock.

He cleans them both up when Caitlin makes no move to get up, her whole body still tingly and floppy, and tucks himself against her back without hesitation when he’s done.

“So,” he says after a while, lips brushing her neck.

Caitlin shivers and he chuckles. “So,” she whispers.

He threads his finger through hers. “Not that I wouldn’t love to stay for round two-”

Just the mention of more is enough to make Caitlin press back against him.

He groans, pressing his face into her shoulder. “But I should go.”

He doesn’t offer more of an explanation and Caitlin doesn’t ask him to stay. He slowly disentangles himself and gets out of bed. Caitlin watches from under hooded eyes as he dresses, not bothering to pull the sheets up, even though goosebumps are already pebbling her skin.

He comes back, brushing his hands up the sides of her stomach and presses one last scorching kiss to her mouth. Caitlin mewls quietly, pushing her whole body unashamedly into his, but he drags himself away and out the door.

When sensation finally returns to her legs, Caitlin pulls on a bathrobe and collects her clothes strewn throughout her apartment. When she goes to pour herself a glass of water to preemptively combat her hangover, a neon green sticky note on the counter catches her eye. His phone number. No name.

Caitlin flops onto her couch, the little note pressed against her chest. She’d just had the best sex of her life with a man whose name she doesn’t even know. Fuck.

* * *

_Two Months Ago_

Caitlin lays curled up on her couch, dressed in her slouchiest clothes of leggings and a thin cropped camisole, staring at the T.V. screen despondently over the empty wine bottle and carton of ice cream. Her cheeks are sticky from tears and she scrubs at them furiously, angry for being sad. Angry for being single.

It’s midnight, but it’s Saturday, and since Sunday is her self-designated day to sleep in, she doesn’t feel bad for putting on another movie. She’s watched this one before, but the now the main character just reminds her of the mystery man from Bliss nightclub and the steamy scenes in the movie leave her hornier than she’d expected to be after a night of drowning her troubles in ice cream and wine.

Caitlin finds the man’s number in her phone, which she’d put in as “Bliss,” and opens a new message, any self-control eroded away by exhaustion and alcohol.

_Hi_ , she sends.

Then she realizes he doesn’t have her number. Or know her name.

_We met at bliss. You gave me your number._

Not the smoothest, but Caitlin doesn’t even know if he’ll respond. It’s been weeks and it’s almost three in the morning.

But her phone buzzes almost immediately. _Hi._ Then _, I didn’t think you were going to use it._

She glances over at the bottle of wine again. _I needed some liquid courage._

_To say hi or to ask for a booty call?_

Caitlin flushes. _Maybe both?_

_Hmm… well I can definitely help with the latter. But is that what you wanted?_

_Yes,_ Caitlin replies before she can stop herself. _I don’t know._

_Let’s take it slow then._

Caitlin rolls onto her back _. Like what?_

_Like, maybe tell me why you’re still up at 3am?_

_Movie night/pity-party_. Caitlin closes her eyes, bemoaning the loss of her filter. _My ex and I broke up a six months ago. I guess I’m not used to being single again._

_Let me guess_. _Shitty romance movies, wine, and ice cream?_

Caitlin giggles. _Sounds like you have experience._

_Oh, no, my pity parties are much more manly. They involve excessive baking and terrible poetry._

Caitlin laughs out loud. _What are you doing up this late?_

_Crushing the last level of badland. Or trying to anyway._

_Badland?_

_Video game._

_Oh._ Caitlin hesitates. _I know nothing about video games._

_So what’s your thing then?_

She frowns at her phone. _My thing?_

_Yeah, what kind of stuff are you into?_

_Um. I don’t know._ Caitlin tries to catalog all the things she does on the weekends. _I like to bake. And run._ Well that sounds depressing _. I guess I don’t do much outside work._

_I’m impressed. Running is not my thing. But you probably could have guessed that._

_What do you mean?_

_You know. Video game nerds and running don’t mix well. Plus I don’t look like a runner._

Caitlin blinks. He’d been so confident when they first met, she would’ve never thought he’d be self-conscious about his body. _I like how you look._

_Aw I’m blushing._

Caitlin grins.

_I like how you look too. But I think you knew that already._

She blushes, at a loss for how to respond.

_So late night pity party over an ex ended in you texting me for a booty call?_

Caitlin’s breath hitches. _Pity party wasn’t for my ex. It was for my very sad sex life._

_Well… what should we do about that?_

Caitlin struggles to come up with a response that’s flirty without sounding desperate. Even though she’s really, truly desperate. _I’m not asking you to come over but…_

_Tell me what you’re wearing._

Caitlin can nearly hear him growling out the command as if he was behind her. She shivers. _Leggings and tank top._

_Underwear?_

Her nipples are already hard and sensitive, brushing against the soft fabric of her shirt. She presses her thighs together. _None._

_Fucking hell._

_You?_

_Boxers,_ he replies. _But they’re about to come off._

Caitlin doesn’t hesitate, because, seriously, he’s got a good dick. _Can I see?_

* * *

_Last Night_

Caitlin taps her phone rapidly against her chin, considering how much she actually wants to do this. On only three glasses of wine, no less. She glances at the clock. Midnight. Not too late, considering she’s texted him later and he’s always answered.

She hits send before she has the chance to reconsider.

_You up?_

He responds almost immediately. _Yup. Why are you up?_

_Can’t sleep._ They’ve maybe done this a few times in the past month, and he knows what she really means.

_Tell me._

She scrolls up to the dick pic he’d sent her last time, steels herself, and snaps a picture of herself, breasts bare and nipples pert. The shot’s wide enough to see her teeth biting down on her lower lip. She hits send.

_Want you._

The little dots pop up, then go away, then pop up again, and Caitlin nearly drops her phone when it rings.

“Hello?” She says breathily.

“Fuck,” he says in response, and his voice alone is enough for Caitlin to arch against the bed and reach her other hand down into her underwear.

Caitlin’s never had phone sex, but it’s impossible to be embarrassed when he’s so fucking _good_ at it, making her come with just her fingers and his voice in her ear.

They both breathe heavily into the phone. Caitlin’s thighs are trembling, and she has to swallow down the urge to ask him to come over again.

“Um,” she says instead.

He laughs.

“Sorry for interrupting your night,” Caitlin says, feeling suddenly shy.

“Don’t be,” he says, voice still husky. “That was significantly better than what I was doing before.”

“What were you doing before?” Caitlin asks, then winces. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

“Video games,” he replies. “You?”

Caitlin sighs. “Dreading my company’s Valentine’s Day party tomorrow.”

“Why? Sounds like free food and free alcohol.”

“My boss has been trying to set me up with someone for months. He’s going to be at the party tomorrow. I _hate_ being set-up. Blind dates are awful.”

He groans in sympathy. “I can agree with that. But,” he says slyly, “you know how to reach me if it gets too boring.”

A thrill runs though her at the thought of hiding in the bathroom at the party to call him. “Maybe,” she says. “I should get some sleep.”

“Good night,” he says, and Caitlin thinks about the way his voice goes soft until she falls asleep an hour later.

* * *

_Valentine’s Day_

Caitlin wakes up at six am, as usual, a little bleary and feeling like last night might have been a dream if she didn’t have evidence on her phone to prove it happened. She tries to put it out of her mind while she move through her usual Saturday morning routine. A run, vacuuming, a shower, grocery shopping, catching up on her reading, and finally finding herself at a loss at just three in the afternoon for how to fill the time until Iris comes that evening to pick her up for the party. She occupies a few hours baking some pies for the community center potluck tomorrow, spends a solid hour picking an outfit for the party, then finally turns on the Food Network and half-watches while scrolling aimlessly through Facebook.

Iris, amazingly, doesn’t veto Caitlin’s first choice of dress, a simple, deep purple sheath dress that Iris gushes over because of how long it makes her legs look and how well it compliments her skin tone. Iris does insist on doing Caitlin’s makeup, the continuation of a long running argument that Caitlin never does her makeup appropriately for anything besides the office, and gives her smoky eyes and a dark lip that even Caitlin has to admit makes her look sexy. Not that she has anyone to look sexy for tonight.

“What about Mrs. Diaz’s grandson?” Iris asks when Caitlin points this out. “Didn’t you say she was introducing you two tonight?”

Caitlin scrunches her nose up. “You know how I feel about blind dates. He works at Palmer Tech. He’s probably an awful, entitled asshole.”

Iris rolls her eyes. “Or he could be like Ray Palmer,” she says sensibly. “Hot despite incredible levels of nerd, and very sweet.”

“Like Barry Allen?” Caitlin asks, latching eagerly onto the opportunity to change the subject.

Iris blushes, busying herself with fussing over Caitlin’s hair.

Caitlin gently slaps her hands away. “My hair’s fine. Well? Are you going to finally ask him out? Or maybe skip that and just kiss him?”

Iris, still red despite her dark complexion, gathers up their bags with determination and nearly pushes Caitlin out the door. “We’re going to be late.”

They’re not late, but Caitlin is merciful enough to let that slide. She does, however, nudge Iris in the side and motion towards Barry, who’s lingering awkwardly at the drink table. “Go,” she urges. “Ask him to be your Valentine.”

Iris gestures rudely at her even as she makes her way over to Barry.

Caitlin watches them for a moment, grinning, before spotting Cecile, the company lawyer, and her husband Joe with little baby Jenna in his arms. She starts to make her way over to them.

“Caitlin!” Mrs. Diaz calls.

Caitlin turns, with a bright, fake smile, and comes face to face with mystery man from Bliss. Francisco Ramon. Cisco. Her boss’ _grandson,_ holy shit.

She searches his friendly smile for any sign of recognition while Mrs. Diaz talks, and she’d almost resigned herself to him not remembering her when their eyes meet and she catches the familiar heavy desire that made her bones turn to liquid three months ago.

Mrs. Diaz finally leaves, patting them both on the arm with a very self-satisfied look on her face that neither of them notice.

“Caitlin,” he says, quietly and a little roughly, like he’s relishing the feel of her name on his tongue.

Caitlin’s knees go a bit weak. If she’d known hearing him say her name would sound like that, she’d have told him ages ago. “Cisco,” she replies. Then, weakly, “You’re my boss’ _grandson_.”

He winces, takes her elbow and gently leads her into an empty hallway. “I swear I didn’t know.”

Caitlin blinks. “I didn’t think you did.”

“Oh,” he says.

She swallows. “I didn’t know, either.”

The discomfort slowly clears from his face, leaving something sly and altogether sexier. “I assumed you wouldn’t have sent me that photo if you knew.”

Caitlin flushes deep red. “No, probably not.”

He touches a hand to her cheek, face softening. “Do you regret it?”

She takes a shuddering breath. “Not even a little.”

Cisco steps closer. “Even though I’m your boss’ grandson and you hate set-ups?”

Damn it, she shouldn’t have told him that. “No.”

He’s smiling now, close enough to brush his nose against hers.

“Actually,” Caitlin says, feeling brazen. “You were pretty much the best sex of my life. So… no regrets. You?”

“Caitlin,” he says, “I’ve been half in love with you since I saw you in that club.”

“You-” Caitlin stammers. “I-”

“I didn’t want to scare you off. I thought maybe we were building up to seeing each other in person again and I could ask you out on a real date.” Cisco’s eyes are dark and glittering this close up, just as adoring as they were that night on the couch with his forehead pressed against hers and his hands up her skirt. 

Caitlin wouldn’t really mind a repeat of that. But maybe not here. “Looks like the universe did that for us.”

“I’m not complaining,” he murmurs, and Caitlin doesn’t have a chance to respond before his mouth is on hers, one hand on her waist, pulling her tightly to him, the other cradling her cheek and sliding into her hair as he deepens the kiss.

He kisses just the same as she remembers. Tender, and intense, and _expert._ And made all the better when he sighs her name against her lips.

“I would really love to take you home right now,” he whispers when he pulls away and Caitlin protests. “But my abuela would murder me if I bailed the party only half an hour in.”

“Even if it’s because her plan to set us up worked?” Caitlin suggests, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“I don’t think she can really take credit for this,” Cisco says, amused.

Caitlin kisses him again. “She doesn’t know that.”

He groans. “Caitlin, I promise you there will be so much time for round two later.” He catches her gaze with his own smoldering one. “And round three,” he kisses her, "and four, and five.” 

She presses her face to his shoulder to hide her flush.

His lips brush her ear. “There are so many things I would love to do to you right now,” he whispers. “I want to take you home and see how long it takes to make you scream.”

Caitlin shivers.

Cisco steps back. “But that has to wait. Because she really would kill me for leaving.”

She glares at him, cheeks red and shifting uncomfortably at the feeling of damp underwear. “That’s just cruel.”

Cisco moves close enough for her sensitive breasts to brush against his chest, making her whimper. “I’ll make it up to you.”

_One Month Later_

Caitlin monitors the popcorn in the microwave carefully while pouring out two glasses of wine. Her microwave is prone to burning popcorn and despite having it for years, she still hasn’t figured out how long it actually needs for perfect popcorn.

Warm hands and a warm body slide around her waist and against her back. She sinks into Cisco, leaning her head on his shoulder to look up at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she replies, kissing him.

It doesn’t take long for his hands to rove, across her bare stomach and up under her camisole to smooth along the underside of her breasts.

Caitlin whines, trying to press into his hands, but they slide back down to her hips.

“Popcorn,” he says and she jumps, opening the microwave just in time.

“You distracted me,” Caitlin accuses with a pout.

Popcorn now safe, he spins her around and crowds her into the counter. “Is that a complaint?”

Caitlin jerks her chin, trying to remain firm, but his hands are drifting down to her ass and his mouth is on her neck and it’s very hard to resist. It’s only when he starts to push away the straps of her shirt that she nudges him back. “You asked me to wear this,” she says breathlessly. “Can’t take it off yet.”

“But that’s the fun part.”

“Hmm,” Caitlin says, kissing him quickly and ducking out of his arms to grab the popcorn. “Should have thought of that before you suggested watching a movie.”

They settle down onto the couch, Cisco’s arm over Caitlin’s shoulders and her legs draped over his propped up on the coffee table. They share the popcorn between them, jostling for handfuls between Cisco quoting his favorite lines and Caitlin pointing out the ridiculous parts of the plot.

Cisco hushes her every time, or talks along with the movie louder and louder until Caitlin’s protests dissolve into giggles.

Her comments grow more and more infrequent as the movie progresses and Cisco spends more time watching her eyes grow soft and smile fond than he does the movie.

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this movie before,” Cisco says quietly when the credits roll. He brushes his thumb under her watery eyes.

She shrugs. “Another reason I’m glad I met you.”

Cisco pulls on her waist and helps her settle into his lap, arms around his neck and thighs bracketing his. “Yeah?” He rubs his hands along the bare skin exposed by her camisole then settles them against the small of her back.

She smiles. “I’m very glad that I got drunk enough to sleep with a total stranger, and then drunk enough again to text him.”

He grins against her mouth. “What, you wouldn’t have spared me a glance if my abuela had introduced us first?”

Caitlin rolls her eyes. “Shut up,” she breathes.

Cisco pulls her closer. “As you wish,” he says, and kisses her.


End file.
